Just a Dare
by Arsinyk
Summary: Draco's dared to seduce Ron and succeeds beyond his wildest dreams. Warning: slash
1. Chapter 1

Summery: Draco is dared to seduce Ron and succeeds beyond his wildest dreams. Warnings: slash  
  
Disclaimer: Just in case you think I'm J.K. Rowling, I'm not. I don't own any of these characters. I'm just borrowing them. Don't sue me, I'm broke.  
  
A/N: This was done at the request of stars-n-moons91, and any suggestions/requests anyone else has will at the very least be seriously considered.

* * *

Draco had been watching Ron for weeks. He knew everything you could know about the boy without actually having to talk to him.

He knew Ron's schedule by heart, knew what time he came down to breakfast, what foods he liked and didn't like… Every single routine, every annoying habit, Draco knew. But despite his careful observation, he was no closer to attaining his goal than he had been when Pansy made the dare three weeks before.

Of course, he knew that he would never be able to do what Pansy had dared him to – not without some minor miracle happening.

The dare was simple enough: he had to seduce one Ronald Weasley – no magic, no 'outside help.' the entire school (except, obviously, Pansy and Draco) had to believe that Ron and Draco were genuinely in love. And then came the fun part – and the only reason he'd agreed to the dare in the first place. Draco also had to dump Ron, as publicly as possible, embarrassing him in front of the entire school (if not the entire wizarding community).

A simple enough dare, but Draco had quickly realized that he had no idea how to go about seducing a boy who couldn't even be in the same room with him without making some rude comment. If Ron had been his friend, he could have just asked the boy out. If Ron had been oblivious to his existence, Draco could simply have walked up to him and introduced himself. Even Harry – ever naïve and trusting – Draco was sure he could have easily seduced. But Ron was different. Ron was a challenge.

Ron didn't like him, didn't trust him. In fact, Draco was fairly sure that Ron genuinely hated him, which was more than could be said of Harry. Harry merely seemed to find him irritating. Ron truly hated him – absolutely _loathed_ him.

Of course, on the bright side that meant that Ron had strong feelings towards him, which could easily be manipulated to convince Ron they were disguising much deeper feelings, assuming they weren't already. But Ron's hatred of him was beginning to get frustrating.

At first, Draco had been sure that he could seduce Ron. All he had to do was bide his time and keep his eyes opened and wait for the right opportunity to present himself. But it had been three weeks now, and Draco was beginning to suspect that Ron was deliberately avoiding getting into situations that might make Draco's task easier.

Which was an interesting and potentially useful thought, and well worth remembering. But it didn't help Draco at this stage.

Still, Draco was hardly about to give up on the dare. No, he could wait a little longer. Eventually some opportunity would present itself and when it did, Draco would be ready.

The first opportunity presented itself when Ron was given a detention in potions. After class, Draco told his friends to go on to dinner without him. He wanted to stay after and help out Professor Snape.

He eventually managed to convince Snape to leave the room and let him supervise Ron's detention. There were times when being a prefect and Snape's favorite paid off, and this was defiantly one of them.

He watched Ron as the boy continued to polish the cauldrons, ignoring Ron's initial taunts and resentful comments until he fell silent.

About an hour before he was supposed to let Ron go, Draco walked over to where Ron was working. The boy looked up and for a moment, Draco stared intently down into his hazel eyes.

"Shiny enough for you?" Ron asked sarcastically, stepping back so that Draco could inspect the cauldron.

Draco glanced at it and nodded absently. "You can go now, if you like."

Ron stared at him. "What?"

"I said you could leave. I won't stop you."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right. And then you go running to Snape, right?"

Draco shook his head. "I won't tell anyone."

Ron sighed. "Sure you won't."

"I promise."

"What's the catch, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled at him. "You have to kiss me first."

"What?" Ron was staring at him with the expected disbelief.

"Did I stutter? I said you have to kiss me and then you can leave. So what'll be? You kiss me and leave now, or you spend the next hour polishing cauldrons."

Ron shook his head. "I wouldn't kiss you if you were the last human on earth."

Draco shrugged. "Too bad. Cause I'm not letting you leave until you kiss me."

Ron stared at him. "Pervert."

"But a pervert with power. Of course, you could try waiting until Snape gets back, though I'm not sure even I'd want to see what he'd do to you if he saw you lurking around the classroom after your detention was over."

Ron sighed, dropping the cloth he'd been using to polish the cauldrons onto the floor and standing up. "I always thought you were gay," he muttered under his breath. Draco smirked slightly. Ron faced him, taking a deep breath, and quickly pressed his lips against Draco's lips.

But Draco didn't let him go. Instead, he slipped his arms around Ron's neck before the boy could retreat. Ron's lips were surprisingly soft and warm against his. Draco parted his lips, pressing his tongue against Ron's until they parted slightly and he slipped his tongue inside, silently praying that Ron didn't think to bite him.

But Ron didn't, and he explored the soft, warm, moist mouth until they both had to part for breath. Draco dropped his arms and Ron fled the room.

Draco smiled after him.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco had been wondering if Ron would tell his friends about the incident, but it seemed that he hadn't. They showed no sign of treating Draco at all differently. Which was a good sign. It meant that the kiss had disturbed Ron enough not to want to talk about it. If it hadn't disturbed Ron, he would have told his friends immediately, using it as yet another reason that Malfoy was an idiot. But he had kept silent about it. That was good.

He was also avoiding Draco even more than before. On the one hand, that was good since it meant that Ron was paying attention to him. The opposite of love was not hate but indifference, and if Ron was going out of his way to avoid Draco, he certainly wasn't indifferent. But on the other hand, it made it that much harder for Draco to catch Ron again.

So once again, Draco was left to observe and wait for another chance to present itself.

His second chance came when Ron was the last person to leave the locker room after Quidditch practice. Usually he came out with Harry, but Draco watched anyways – just in case. So Draco noticed when every other team member had left. Once they had vanished, Draco slipped inside. He found Ron sitting on one of the benches, pulling on his shoes. Draco had been hoping to find him wearing just a little less, but given that everyone else had already changed and left, he wasn't surprised to find Ron almost fully dressed himself.

The redhead looked up when he heard Draco enter, his eyes widening when he saw who was standing there.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco smirked. "You."

Ron glared at him. "Not gonna happen."

"Sure about that?" Draco walked over to the boy, staring down into his eyes. Ron looked away and Draco caught his chin, turning his face back upwards. Draco leaned down, touching his lips to Ron's. Ron tried to pull away, but Draco held his head still until he relaxed. Then he let go and drew back. Ron hadn't even tried to hurt him – was that good or bad? Draco wasn't sure, but he'd hope it was good.

Ron turned back to his shoes, firmly ignoring Draco's presence – probably hoping Draco would go away. But Draco had no intention of leaving quite yet. He waited patiently for Ron to finish with his shoes. Ron, of course, was dawdling over them. At least, Draco hoped he was. Draco doubted even Neville took four minutes (and counting) to tie his shoelaces. But Ron could only delay for so long. Eventually he had to just tie them and get up. Right?

Six minutes later, Draco's patience snapped. "Does it always take you _ten bloody minutes _to tie your shoes? My god, if you're really that uncoordinated just use a spell."

Ron didn't look up, but he flushed slightly. Three minutes later, Draco decided he was sick of waiting. And anyway, he could use this to his advantage, couldn't he?

Draco crouched down in front of Ron, catching the boy's 'fumbling' hands. Ron looked up at him angrily and Draco took the opportunity to kiss him again. Ron tried to pull back, but Draco was expecting it and, feeling him tense a moment before, snapped his hands from Ron's fingers to the boy's neck, pressing his lips harder against Ron's to avoid loosing contact. Again, he waited until Ron relaxed to withdraw.

Then he turned to Ron's shoelaces. When Ron refused to remove his hands, Draco kissed his palms and when still tried to push Draco's hands away, Draco kissed his lips. Once again Ron attempted to pull away, and once again Draco waited until he'd relaxed to release him. This time Ron gave up much quicker than before. Good – he was making progress.

Now Ron gave a defeated sigh and sat back, letting Draco tied his shoes for him. Seconds later, Draco was finished, but before he let Ron get up, he kissed him again. This time Ron didn't even bother to resist and Draco rewarded him by making the kiss a quick one.

Draco stood back a little to let Ron get up, but once he was on his feet, Draco caught his hips, holding Ron still as he gave him another kiss. Ron didn't resist, but he didn't return the kiss either so Draco moved his lips from Ron's mouth to his neck. Now Ron tried to push him away, but Draco simply let himself fall to the floor – pulling Ron down on top of him, of course.

Ron choked, trying to get up, but Draco was hardly about to let him. He wrapped his legs around Ron's waist and his arms around his neck, making it impossible for the boy to get up. For a moment, Ron fought him. But Draco simply waited until he stilled and then pulled his head down for a kiss. Ron let him, but again he didn't respond.

Annoyed, Draco pulled his head back just enough to speak. "I'm not letting you go until I get the response I want. I really have all day, you know. And just think how it would look if someone walked in right now."

At the mention of someone coming in and finding them, Ron renewed his struggles. But Draco had no intention of letting him go. And he'd meant what he'd said – they didn't have any more classes and Draco didn't need to be anywhere until dinner, which he could skip if necessary.

Once Ron gave up, Draco found his lips again. Eventually, Ron's lips parted slightly and Draco slipped his tongue inside before Ron could change his mind. He patiently explored Ron's mouth, waiting for some further reaction on Ron's part. But Ron just glared at him with a mixture of anger, shame, confusion, and a million other emotions Draco couldn't name and eventually Draco had to pull back so he could breathe.

By that time, his arms and legs were getting tired from holding Ron still, and he managed to flip them both over so that Ron was beneath him. When he had Ron securely pinned again, Draco stared into his eyes for a long moment, taking in the brown-flecked hazel eyes; the stubby, red-gold eyelashes; the freckled, milky-pale skin; the soft, sweet, pink lips… Come to think of it, Ron wasn't too bad looking. Draco fought off the sudden urge to trace Ron's freckles with his tongue. They covered his face, extending down his neck, below the collar of his shirt and Draco found himself wondering just _how _far down they extended. Well, he had every intention of finding out later.

Draco kissed Ron again. This time, Ron's lips parted almost immediately, and he was ever so slightly more responsive. Draco hungrily devoured the boy's mouth, even eliciting a soft moan. At that point, he decided he'd made his point – what ever it might be – and got up. He smiled sweetly at Ron and left him lying breathless on the floor of the locker room.

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A/N: The title of this reminds me of that song, Ordinary Day by Vanessa Carlton...  
Anywho, thanks very much to everyone who reviewed...  
Gemini Gerbal: Thanks... And this is Draco's way of seducing his unwilling prey. (actually, it seems more like he's training it, but I guess that works too) Stars-n-moons91: I'm glad you like it... Orange and Kashiaga: Thanks  



	3. Chapter 3

After that, Ron didn't even let Draco get anywhere _near_ him. That didn't really surprise Draco. What surprised Draco was that that was _all_ Ron did – avoid him. If it had been him, he'd have his father suing the Weasleys, Hogwarts, and probably the Ministry – just for good measure – in seconds. He'd have been screaming 'rape' before Ron could blink. There was no way in Hell he'd let Ron catch him twice – _twice _– and say nothing about it. And from everything he'd observed, that was exactly what he'd have expected Ron to do. Ron's lack of reaction was puzzling.

Ron had no reason – _no reason­ _– not to tell anyone. Not unless there was something about him thatDraco didn't know. And if it was motivating his actions towards Draco, Draco most definitely wanted to know about it. But try as he might, Draco couldn't come up with anything.

Assuming Ron hated him as he appeared to, he'd have told in seconds. If, but some strange twist of fate Ron was actually already attracted to him and the hatred really _had _been disguising other feelings, he'd have been screaming 'rape' in seconds just out of habit. Not to mention that Draco would've thought that if he already had a crush on him, Ron would have reacted at least a little when Draco had him pinned to the floor in the locker room. If Ron had enjoyed the kissing a little more than he'd expected, his reaction should have been to push Draco away screaming 'rape' just to avoid dealing with the sudden realization.

And that pretty much covered all the bases. Either Ron had always hated him and still did, Ron had always liked him and still did, or he'd hated Draco but now he realized he was attracted to Draco. There were no other possibilities. Draco didn't generally like the words "no other possibilities." There were _always_ other possibilities – just ones that either you didn't like or you hadn't thought of yet (ignoring the fact that those were the only two possible possibilities he was willing to consider when it came to the number of possibilities there were in which case, the statement was false, because there were only two possibilities and he'd listed them… which still left the statement false, because he'd still listed all the possibilities, unless… never mind, this wasn't getting him anything but a headache). The point was that Draco didn't like accepting that he knew all the possibilities. And since none of the possibilities he'd already come up with fit, he had to assume that there was another that he simply hadn't thought of yet.

But no matter how hard he thought about it, Draco couldn't come up with anything.

  


  
  
Almost a week after the incident in the locker room, Draco was thoroughly sick and tired of watching Ron and waiting for an opportunity to present itself. The boy never went anywhere alone. He even seemed to be going to the bathroom in his dormitory, since Draco hadn't seen him go _once_ since the incident in the locker room. Before, Draco had been extremely reluctant to catch him when he went to the bathroom – something about that just _felt_ wrong in some really fundamental way. At this point, Draco was ready to seize any chance he was given.

Except that Ron wasn't giving him any. And it wasn't like he could just walk up to the boy – surrounded by Harry and Hermione and the rest of his friends as he always was now – and ask to talk to him alone. They'd ask questions and Draco would get in trouble. And they'd put more pressure on Ron to tell him shove it and make Draco's job that much more difficult.

But Draco wasn't going to give up – even if he had to wait until after they'd graduated from Hogwarts. No, he'd accepted Pansy's challenge, and he was going to see it through and only Ron's death would stop him (assuming he was unable to pursue Ron in Heaven or wherever they went).

It was after dinner that day that Draco finally managed to catch Ron. He followed Ron and Hermione into the library. They sat down at a table at the back of the library, hidden from most of the room by bookshelves and Draco took a seat just near enough to hear their conversation. He wasn't sure where Harry was, but that didn't matter. He wasn't here. Hermione was babbling about their homework, not saying anything important, and Draco easily tuned her out. After about an hour of her chattering away about something, a young first year walked hesitantly up to her.

"C-c-could you h-help me w-with my homework?"

If the kid had come up to Draco, Draco'd have told him to go stuff it – even if the brat had been a Slytherin (not that a Slytherin would ever be that pathetic). But Hermione wasn't Draco and she simply smiled and got up to go help him. Sap.

Oh well, at least this left Ron alone.

Draco waited until she vanished and then got up, moving to sit down across from Ron. Ron looked up briefly, saw Draco, tensed, and looked back at his work. For a minute, Draco just sat there, considering how to proceed. Then he carefully moved his foot over to touch Ron's leg. Feeling his foot, Ron shot him a startled glared before turning back to his books, flushing hotly.

Blushing was good, right?

Well, at least he wasn't screaming for someone to pull the crazed rapist off of him. That had to be good. Perplexing, but good.

Slowly, Draco began to move his foot up and down Ron's leg, smiling as his flush deepened. He tried moving his foot higher, until he reached Ron's knee. Ron kept blushing, but otherwise didn't react. Draco tried slipping his foot along the inside of Ron's thigh.

"Malfoy," the boy hissed, glaring at him. He was, if possible, an even darker shade of red.

"Mmm?"

Ron gave him a disgusted look and turned back to his work.

Okay, so maybe he could push this just a little further. Draco brought back his foot and Ron seemed to relax a little. But Draco merely slipped off his shoe and returned his foot to Ron's leg, sliding up over his ankles, up to his knees, pushing apart his upper legs so he could slide his foot along the inside of his thigh again. …just a little further and…

"Malfoy!" Ron hissed again.

"Yes?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Draco smiled sweetly at him. "I should think that would be obvious, Weas–Ron." The name sounded strange on his lips and Draco realized that while he had gotten used to thinking of him as Ron, he'd never actually said the name before.

Ron swallowed and looked back at his homework. Did he honestly think that Draco would just get bored and give up? Ah well, Draco might as well get his attention again. He moved his foot a little further along Ron's thigh… closer… closer…

"Ow!" Ron had stomped, _hard_, on his other foot. Shit. He pulled his foot back.

"Shhh."

Draco blinked at that. Ron wanted him to be quiet? Ron wanted him to be quiet. Ron was being quiet. Ron wasn't telling anyone… Ron didn't want anyone to find out about this (hence the not telling anyone… keen observation skill, there). Now that Draco thought about it, when they were in the locker room, the thing that had silenced him best was the suggestion of someone else finding them. Interesting… But why didn't Ron want anyone finding out about this? It wasn't like _Ron_ had anything to be ashamed of. He wasn't doing anything. Draco was the one doing inappropriate things, not Ron.

Draco considered trying again, but when he did, he found that Ron had crossed his legs. Oh well, time to try a new tactic.

"So, what are you working on?" Draco asked, shoving his shoe back on.

Ron ignored him, so Draco pushed the textbooks out of the way and looked at the assignment. Care of Magical Creatures. Draco'd finished _his_ essay days ago.

Ron grabbed one of the books back. "You lost my place!"

Draco smirked. "Sorry. You know, that's not due for another two days, right?"

Ron ignored him, so Draco tried again.

"How much more do you have to do?"

Silence.

"You want some help?"

More silence.

Around that point, Draco ran out of patience. Anyways, he had no idea when Hermione would be coming back and he didn't want her to catch them. Especially if Ron was so desperate not to get caught. So he got up and walked around the table, sitting down next to Ron and casually brushing his hand against Ron's hip.

Ron closed his eyes, tensing at the contact. Draco looked over his shoulder at what he was writing. He hadn't gotten very far – only two, short paragraphs.

"Are you sure you don't want some help?"

"I can do it on my own, _Malfoy_."

"You know, you're kind of cute when you're mad."

Now Ron glared at him. Well, at least he was looking. Draco reached out to brush his fingers over Ron's scowling lips. Ron snapped his head back so fast he almost fell over.

"Look Malfoy, _you_ may be gay, but _I_ am not. So just leave it, okay?"

"So maybe you're bi."

"No."

"Aren't you the least bit curious?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No." And with that firm denial, Ron grabbed his books and got up, hurrying out of the library as fast as he could without attracting attention and leaving Draco not much closer to achieving his goal than he'd been this morning.

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A/N: Kashiaga: Here the update... Master of the flames: Thanks :P Stars-n-moons91: Thanks... I hope this makes more sense than the last chapter. You kind of forced me to think about Ron's motivation a little more, which definatly helped a lot. So thanks a ton!! :D  
  
And anyone who notices and points out gramatical errors in any of my writing, I'll love you forever! (though plot continuity, characterization and so on are great too...)  



	4. Chapter 4

Draco lay in his bed for a long time that night, mulling over what he had now dubbed "the Library Incident." Ron didn't want to get caught. That was interesting. That was very interesting. It was also irritatingly inexplicable. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come up with any explanation for it. So eventually, he gave up on that clue, filing it away for further contemplation after he'd come up with more information about Ron's reaction.

There had to be something else about that incident that had been important. It was the most contact he'd had with the boy in _weeks_ – well, _a_ week, but close enough.

There was Ron's whole "I'm not gay" thing – which hadn't convinced Draco in the slightest. Actually, he was now almost positive Ron was about as straight as he was rich, which was about as gay as you could get.

Well, that had to be good. It would be a lot harder – though be no means impossible – to seduce Ron if he were straight. The denial aspect was a little worrying, but that could just be a ploy to try and get rid of Draco, which wasn't a particularly useful revelation.

What else had happened? Draco racked his brain for any other potentially interesting aspects of the incident, but the only thing he could think of was that Ron had been blushing. Why would Ron be blushing? Because he was embarrassed – that _was_ why people usually blushed, after all. But what did he have to be embarrassed about? That Draco was harassing him, of course (unless that had been a very _interesting _chapter of their Care of Magical Creatures book, but somehow Draco doubted that).

So, what about it had embarrassed Ron? The action itself or Ron's own reaction? Well, if Ron was as bigoted about Slytherins as he seemed to be, maybe he found his reaction to Draco embarrassing…

Of course, if Ron had tried something like that with him and if, for some inexplicable reason, Draco _didn't_ throw a fit and get him expelled, his other course of action would have been to passionately ravish the annoying redhead. He would have hardly just _sat_ there and let Ron do what he wished, hoping that maybe if he blushed hard enough Ron would leave him alone.

But clearly Ron didn't deem _that_ to be any better a course of action than beating Draco to a bloody pulp whilst screaming "rape!" at the top of his lungs.

For hours, he lay awake, pondering what he could try next. Because honestly, he was getting tired of waiting and watching and not being able to do anything until Ron slipped up. Maybe… maybe he should try something else. Maybe he could try a different tactic. Slowly, a plan began to form in his head. Unfortunately, he fell asleep before he could get very far into it.

  


Ron wasn't at breakfast the next morning, but then again neither were either Harry or Hermione, so maybe it wasn't because of Draco. Pansy, who was sitting across from him, must have caught him looking for Ron, because she leaned over the table and asked in a low voice, "So have you made any progress yet?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm working on it."

Pansy snorted. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Well, since I don't recall you setting a time limit, I don't see as that matters."

"It has to be before we get out of Hogwarts, or you won't be able to do the last part."

Draco smirked at her. "Not necessarily – as long as Hogwarts is still here, if I disgrace him before the entire world then I'll have completed the dare."

Pansy glared at him and refocused her attention on her meal. Draco spared a glance at Crabbe and Goyle, who were, as always, sitting on either side of him, but they were oblivious as ever.

  


  
  
Vincent Crabbe was sitting next to Gregory on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, watching in patient silence as Draco passed back and forth in front of them. He had no idea what Draco was so worked up about, though it was probably related to whatever had been bothering him for the past few weeks.

But whatever it was, Draco had yet been driven to do more than snap at either Vincent or Greg, so Vincent wasn't particularly worried about it yet.

Eventually, Draco looked up from his pacing, seeming to notice Vincent and Greg for the first time.

"Don't you two have homework or something?"

Vincent gave an affirmative grunt.

"Then why don't you go do it?"

Vincent gave another grunt and the two of them got up and went upstairs, leaving Draco to his pacing. In their dormitory, they found Theodore Nott sitting on his bed, reading a book. Theodore looked up as they entered.

"Either of you two know what's up with Draco?"

Greg grunted, giving a slight shake of his head as he sat down heavily on his bed. Theodore gave them both a disgusted look.

"I should know better than to ask you, by now," he muttered under his breath.

Vincent grunted his agreement, though he wasn't sure whether Theodore would interpret it correctly. Draco was just about the only person beyond Vincent and Greg themselves who could consistently and accurately interpret their grunts. Pansy could usually do a reasonable job, and everyone else was lucky to figure out whether a grunt meant "yes," "no," or "I'm about to beat you to a pulp."

Theodore shook his head in disgust, muttering something about not knowing how they'd managed to get into Slytherin in the first place and even worse than Hufflepuffs. But Vincent didn't mind, and he knew Greg didn't either. He was used to it by now.

He pulled out his history of magic textbook, trying to find the beginning of the chapter they were supposed to read while Greg rooted through his bag for a pen. He knew he'd written it down somewhere…

Eventually he found the right page and set about working his way through the confusing mess of letters that covered the page with a grim determination that should have had him sent straight to Gryffindor. Actually, it had occurred to him once that he probably should be in Gryffindor – they were the stupid, stubborn ones, after all. He wasn't sure how he had gotten into Slytherin; he just knew he was glad to be with Draco, who was the only friend he and Greg had ever really had. Draco did all the thinking and told them what to do, and Vincent and Greg obeyed him, protected him, and remained strictly loyal to him. Which sounded pathetically Hufflepuff, when you put it that way, but Draco had never once betrayed them, never once hurt them. Maybe he was rude to them, but so was everyone else – and Draco was rude to everyone. But he had never _hurt_ to them or betrayed their trust. Perhaps if he ever had, maybe they wouldn't be so Hufflpuff-ishly loyal to him. But Vincent didn't really want to think about that, because Draco would never betray him.

By the time he managed to struggle through the chapter and actually make sense of what it was supposed to be saying, it was getting dark out. Sometimes he could persuade Draco to summarize the reading for him, but he knew Draco's moods well enough to know better than to ask him right now. Draco would probably just sneer at him and tell him what an idiot he was and to figure it out for himself. So Vincent had cut out the whole Draco snapping at him part and skipped right to the figuring it out for himself.

He looked up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. Theodore had left at some point, leaving him and Greg alone. Noticing that Vincent had finished, Greg looked up.

"What was the chapter about?"

Most people would have been amazed to hear that Greg could actually put that many words together and even form a coherent sentence with them. Even the other Slytherins seemed to think that Greg and Vincent had a very few number of useful sentences laboriously memorized. No one but Draco seemed to believe that they had a firm enough understanding of the English language to actually speak in complete sentences.

Vincent sighed, shutting the book and carefully set about explaining what he remembered from the chapter.

* * *

A/N: Princess Orli: Did I forget to thank you in the last chapter? Not sure (the reviews weren't working right), but if so, I'm very sorry. And if not, I would be sorry if I had... which didn't make much sense, did it? Thanks. :D Master of the flames: Sorry this update took so long... I've sort of been struggling with one of my other stories. I wanted to update before this, but it's taking me forever to write the next scene so I gave up and moved on to this. Sorry... Stars-n-moons91: You're very welcome... More on Ron's motivation (there's prolly a lil' more there than just that he's liking this, don't ya think?) Kashiaga: Thanks  



	5. Chapter 5

Draco went to bed that night feeling very frustrated. He hadn't seen Ron at _all_ that day. Ron wasn't in any of his classes that day, but he'd hoped to be able to catch him at lunch or dinner, or maybe in the library. But while both Potter and Granger had been at dinner and lunch, Ron was nowhere to be found.

Draco was almost positive that his new plan would work – if only he could find Ron.

Greg absently grunted a greeting as he entered their dormitory. Vincent looked up, smiling briefly at him before going back to struggling with his homework. Draco got changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed.

A few minutes later, someone turned out the light and they all fell asleep.

  


  
  
Draco woke up early the next morning, as usual. Greg was already awake, presumably downstairs waiting for Draco. Draco used to have to wake Greg and Vincent up every morning, not wanting to be the only one up. Greg had quickly adjusted, now getting up before Draco had a chance to wake him himself. Draco suspected the ice-water spell he had taken to using to wake them had had something to do with Greg's determination to always be up before him. Vincent, who had never been much of an early bird, was still dead to the world and Draco knew from experience that the only thing that would get him up was having his bed flooded with icy-cold water, but he didn't need Vincent up yet. One bodyguard was quite enough, since he wasn't planning on leaving the common room.

Downstairs, he found Greg sitting in front of the fire, staring blankly into space. Greg looked up for a moment, smiling slightly when he saw Draco. His was a truly grotesque smile—twisting and contorting his face into something that barely looked human—but to Draco it was familiar and he could see the genuine warmth behind it.

Draco gave him a slight smile in return—just the slightest upward twitch of his lips, but enough for someone who knew him well to see that he was in an amiable mood.

Draco took the seat next to Greg and started looking over his Potions homework. Greg watched him work until some first year whose name Draco couldn't remember just now joined them in the common room, looking somewhat intimidated by the presence of two sixth years. With an effort, Draco suppressed the urge to bare his teeth at the poor child, instead keeping his attention strictly focussed on his work. First years were truly rather cute, in Draco's opinion—especially when they were screaming their little heads off in fright. But Draco could save his terrorizing for the other Houses.

One by one, more Slytherins began to appear downstairs. Most of them just went off to breakfast, but Pansy came over to join Draco.

"So?" she asked him softly.

Draco rolled his eyes, wondering why Pansy was suddenly nagging him so much. "I couldn't get near him yesterday," Draco informed her.

Pansy smirked and suddenly Draco wondered if she'd done something to sabotage his chances with Ron. Then he laughed to himself. Right, like she needed to. It wasn't like Draco had had a chance with the boy to begin with.

Vincent was among the last to come down, blushing a little when he saw that Pansy was sitting with Draco. But Pansy never seemed to notice Vincent's interest in her, and the four of them set off to breakfast, Vincent and Greg following Draco and looking every ounce as menacing as usual.

Once again, neither Ron, Potter, nor Granger could be found at breakfast. In fact, there seemed to be several students missing, though Draco wasn't sure which ones. None of them were in Slytherin.

Everyone seemed to be there during class, but several students—including Ron and his friends—were conspicuously absent again during lunch. But it wasn't until after Defense Against the Dark Arts—which was the only class Draco still had with Ron and his friends—that Draco even _saw_ Ron.

This year's teacher—a pale, reedy young man named Professor Stanwood who had been appointed by the Ministry to take Umbridge's place. So far, Professor Stanwood was, if possible, even more boring than Professor Binns's class. He stood at the front of the class and droned nonsense about whatever they were studying, telling them nothing they couldn't have picked up from their textbooks. Right now, they were reviewing their third year and learning less than Professor Lupin had taught them at the time.

Draco kept his eyes glued to the Professor Stanwood, who seemed to think that if you were looking at him, you were paying attention and if you weren't, you weren't. And if he thought you weren't, you were probably going to get detention.

Right now, he was saying something about werewolves, or had they moved on yet? Even Granger looked bored. But Draco wasn't paying attention to Granger. He was focusing on Ron, as much as he could without looking away from Professor Stanwood. Ron was watching the teacher with a glazed expression, and though he had cast a nervous glance at Draco upon entering the classroom, he seemed to have forgotten Draco's presence.

Or maybe he was actually asleep. Was it possible to fall asleep and still move your eyes to follow someone as they paced around the room? If it was, Draco was really wishing he could learn. His neck was beginning to ache from craning around to watch Professor Stanwood as he paced around the classroom. Why on earth couldn't the man _just hold still _as he talked?

And how could someone who moved so much still be boring? He was walking up and down the between the rows of desks, occasionally looking over the shoulder of a student to see that they were taking notes. As he walked up Draco's row, Draco quickly began scribbling little snippets of what Professor Stanwood was saying in his tiny notebook. He had deliberately bought a small one, so it was harder to tell that he hadn't been taking notes. Professor Stanwood glanced over his shoulder and moved on, apparently satisfied. Draco kept writing for a few more seconds, glancing back and fourth between Stanwood and his notebook, before returning his attention to Ron.

"Mr. Longbottom!"

The entire class jumped at the sudden change from his normal monotone. Stanwood was looming over the poor boy, who was looking even more confused than normal. In any other class, Draco would have laughed at him. But right now he was too bored to bother. And Professor Stanwood would probably give him detention again if he did.

"Y-yes, Professor?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

Longbottom stared at Professor Stanwood in confusion and Draco was too bored to bother to point out that Longbottom _didn't_ think.

"…uh… taking notes?"

Draco smirked at that. Longbottom was probably the only student in the entire class aside from Granger who actually _was_ taking notes.

"Taking notes _what_?" Longbottom looked confused and Stanwood gave an overly patient sigh. "_Sir_. I told you at the beginning of the year that you were to address me as _Sir_ at all times. Five points from Gryffindor."__

"Sorry," Longbottom mumbled. Stanwood cleared his throat dangerously and Longbottom flushed. "Sir. I meant, sorry sir."

Stanwood smiled at him. "Good. But if you were taking note, why were looking out the window?"

"…I… I… I…" Longbottom struggled for a few moments for an answer that wouldn't dig him in deeper before giving up and looking properly ashamed. "I'm sorry, Professor," he said softly. "It won't happen again."

"Of course not. Ten points from Gryffindor. And to see that it _doesn't _happen again, you have detention with me after school this evening. Right after dinner. And it's another ten points from Gryffindor for every minute you're late."

"Professor!"

_Ah yes, Potter to the rescue._

Professor Stanwood turned to face the raven-haired boy who had spoken. "Yes?"

"Professor, that's not fair. You can't—"

"I can and I will, Mr. Potter. Now please sit down before I take any more points from Gryffindor."

Several Slytherins including Draco snickered at that and Professor Stanwood gave them a hard look. "Ten points from Slytherin. Now, if we can _please_ move on with the class."

Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes until Professor Stanwood had turned away. There were two fundamental differences between Snape and Stanwood. First, Snape's classes were interesting and challenging, not boring and impossible. Second, Snape almost never took points from Slytherin. Snape simply was a demanding teacher who hated Gryffindor; Stanwood was just plain evil.

They managed to get through the class without either House loosing any more points or anyone else getting detention.

Draco told his friends to go on ahead without him and waited for Ron outside the classroom. Professor Stanwood wanted to talk to Potter after class, presumably reprimanding him for his outburst, so Ron and Granger came out alone. They each walked off in separate directions once they'd left, and Draco followed Ron. Ron didn't seem to notice he was being followed until Draco called his name.

Ron walked faster, but Draco caught up with him easily. "Hey, I just want to talk."

Silence.

"Look, I just wanted to say sorry about the way I've been acting recently. It was for a dare and it was stupid, but it's over and I won't do it again."

"That's not what Pansy said."

"What?" _Oh heck, what had Pansy told him?_ "And what did she say?"

Ron glared at him. "She told me to watch out for you because you'd been dared to rape me."

Oh. How could he have missed Pansy talking to Ron? "No… I wasn't dared to rape you, and I'm sorry."

"Then what was the dare?"

Shit, what was he supposed to say now? "Uh… to molest a Gryffindor three times."

Ron gave him a suspicious look. "Okay, so you've done that. Now leave me alone."

"Well… actually, you know, I was watching you a bit so I could complete the dare and I kind of realized that maybe you're not so bad after all. My father hates your family, but you aren't like he said you were and I was wondering if maybe we could start over and try to be friends."

Ron stared at him. "You're mental. Completely and totally mental."

"Well, it was worth a shot. So, where'd Granger go?"

"Library."

"Oh?"

"She's looking up—studying."

Draco decided to let that slip slid. "And you?"

"I have Quidditch."

"Hmm, well, practice hard and maybe we we'll forget the badges this time."

Ron flushed angrily and Draco started humming _Weasley is our king_ under his breath.

"Shut up, Malfoy."

Draco hummed louder.

"_Malfoy._"

"Yes?" Draco asked innocently.

Ron rolled his eyes in disgust.

"So, where were you during breakfast?"

"Uh… busy. Finishing up some homework."

Did he actually expect Draco to believe that? There had been at least twenty or thirty students missing from breakfast and even more from lunch. And not one of them had been in Slytherin. Did he actually expect Draco to believe that they'd _all _been finishing homework? But Draco decided not to push it.

"Don't you have anything else to do?" Ron asked him in disgust as they left the castle.

Draco shook his head. "Not really, no."

"Well, go find something else. Because you're not watching us practice and stealing our strategies."

"Why would we _want_ to?"

"You're a Slytherin. Slytherins cheat."

"Only when we have to. And we don't really have to. Not to beat you, anyways."

Ron glared at him. "Just go."

Draco smirked back and walked back to the castle feeling very accomplished. He had actually managed to have an actual conversation with Ron—and neither of them had even been _bruised_.

* * *

A/N: Princess Orli: I don't know as it's the most creative plan in the world, but as long as it works... Orange: Thanks  



	6. Chapter 6

Draco managed to catch Ron again as he returned to the Gryffindor common room after Quidditch practice. He was pleased that he managed to catch Ron alone—Ron was easier to handle without his friends about.

Ron tensed slightly when Draco fell in step beside him, but otherwise didn't react.

"So, how'd practice go?" Draco asked him casually.

"You really want our strategies, don't you?"

Draco shrugged. "I already told you. We could beat you with our hands tied behind our backs. We don't _need_ to cheat."

Ron snorted. "And how exactly do you plan on staying on your broomstick with your hands behind your back?"

"Hold on with our legs, of course."

"And how will you catch the snitch?"

"In my mouth. Like Potter did in first year."

Ron make a disgusted face. "I really don't even want to think about the images that conjures."

"What? Me holding onto a 'broomstick' or me catching the 'snitch' in my mouth?"

Ron made a gagging noise. "Neither, pervert. Now get lost."

Draco realized that they must have come to the entrance to Gryffindor common room when Ron stopped walking. He'd never been up here before—he hadn't been able to follow Ron quite this far without attracting too much attention. Ron's next comment confirmed his suspicions.

"You can't come in the Gryffindor common room, Malfoy."

"Will you meet me by the lake tomorrow after classes?"

"No."

"Okay." Draco folded his arms, leaning easily against the wall behind them and watching Ron.

"Malfoy, get lost."

"Not until you promise to meet me."

"_Malfoy!_" Ron glanced around briefly.

"Yes?" Draco asked sweetly.

"Anyone could just… I mean, _get lost_. I'm not going to meet you tomorrow."

"Then I'm not leaving."

Ron glanced around again, obviously expecting someone to jump out of the shadows and scream 'Hah! I caught you with Malfoy!' at any moment.

"Please?"

"Meet me tomorrow?"

Ron closed his eyes. "Will you go away?"

"Until tomorrow."

"All right. I'll meet you."

Draco smiled. "I knew you'd come to your senses."

"Just go away. You said you would."

Draco snorted. "And since when do you trust the word of a Slytherin?"

"Malfoy!"

"I love the way you say my name. You _are_ hot, you know. Even when you're being an arse." Draco stepped forwards and lightly brushed his lips against Ron's. Ron tensed and tried to pull away, but Draco held his head still, wishing that Ron was the one with his back by the wall.

Ron stomped down hard on his foot, and Draco let out a yelp, jumping away from Ron. Ron glared at him as he regained his balance, not even taking advantage of Draco's temporarily weakened position to attack.

Once he had his balance back, Draco withdrew his wand and in a single, fluid movement had it up against the soft, pale skin of Ron's throat.

"Don't even _think_ about not showing. If you don't, I'll use the bloody Imperius curse on you."

"But that… that's illegal!"

"And when have you ever believed that would stop me?"

"I'll be there."

"Good." Draco smiled sweetly and lowered his wand. "Oh, and please refrain from attacking me again." With that he shot a stinging hex at Ron and swept off, leaving Ron gasping in pain behind him.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Vincent looked up when Draco entered the common room. He had no idea why it had taken Draco over an hour to get back from Defence Against the Dark Arts, or why he looked so annoyed now.

He strode over to where Vincent and Greg were sitting, flopping down on the sofa across from them, propping his legs up its arm. Vincent and Greg watched Draco in silence as he stared into space, thinking hard. He'd been doing that a lot lately, but neither Vincent nor Greg had any idea why.

Nor did either particularly care, beyond a mild curiosity. But they had long since learned when it was best to simply leave Draco alone, when it was best to follow and obey without question—and this was most definitely such a time.

Eventually Draco looked over at them, seeming to notice them for the first time. He scowled, a familiar and—to Vincent, at least—comforting expression. Somehow Draco simply was not _Draco_ if he wasn't acting superior and annoyed with the world at large.

"Don't either of you have anything _productive _to do? No, of course not. No one ever does anything productive around here—and to think we're all bloody _Slytherins_." he muttered to himself in annoyance. "The Hufflepuff first years have been getting a bit stuck up lately. How about you two go show 'em who's boss?"

Vincent and Greg moved to rise; this wasn't an entirely unusual suggestion from Draco—he frequently told them to go scare people when he wanted to be alone to think. But then he shook his head, waving for them to stay seated.

"No, never mind. He'd probably hear, anyways…" he trailed off, going returning to his thoughts and Vincent and Greg sat back down.

_He? Who on Earth was he?_ Vincent wondered, bristling a little. It probably had something to do with what he'd been so distracted with lately—and Vincent found the thought that there was a boy whose opinion Draco actually cared about absurdly distressing. But he found that he desperately wanted to discover the identity of said boy and beat him to a bloody pulp.

After a few more minutes, Draco sat up. He stared at his homework for a few moments, then shook his head and went up to bed.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

Draco was actually somewhat surprised when Ron showed up the next day. He'd been half afraid that Ron would get detention or something just to give himself an excuse not to come. But Ron did show up.

He folded his arms and glared at Draco. "I'm here."

Draco smirked. "So you are."

"Can I go now?"

Draco snorted. "No."

Ron continued to glare at him.

"Come on," Draco said, setting off in the direction of the castle, leaving Ron to run after him.

"Hey! Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"But…"

Draco glanced coldly over his shoulder. "Want me to hex you again?"

"Is that all you can do? Hex people?"

"I can kiss you," Draco reminded him.

Ron gave him a disgusted look, muttering something about preferring to be hexed, which Draco decided to ignore.

When they came to the stairs leading to the dungeons, Ron stopped short.

"_Where are you taking me_?"

"You'll see," Draco told him again, continuing to walk down the stairs.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm not going into the Slytherin common room."

Draco glanced over his shoulder, sneering. "Of course you aren't. For one thing, it's against the rules."

Ron blinked. "Then where are we going?"

Now Draco turned around to face Ron. "What part of 'You'll see' escapes you?"

"Where are we going?" Ron repeated.

"You're beginning to sound like someone cast a faulty Sonorus spell on you," Draco commented conversationally.

Ron stared at him, unmoving.

"Do you want someone to see us standing here? No? Then just follow me."

Ron glanced around automatically, quickly stifling the instinct and looking back at Draco, but not before Draco saw it. He looked slightly ill-at-ease, though he was trying valiantly not to show it. Unfortunately, he still wasn't moving.

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

Ron flushed slightly, but remained stubborn. "You will anyway."

"Yeah, but here someone's likely to walk along and see," Draco pointed out.

Ron hesitated, then followed. Smirking silently to himself, Draco set off down the hallway.

_Honestly, like I'd actually take him to the Slytherin common room. As if I don't have enough problems without telling some stupid, muggle-loving Gryffindor our password and showing him around our common room._

Draco rolled his eyes at the thought. He led Ron down the corridor, knowing full well that they would meet no one. There were only Slytherins down here after classes, and the Slytherins rarely wandered the hallways. Some might be outside or even wandering the school, but no one wandered the dungeon corridors unless they really had to. The reason for this was really quite simply—the dungeons were cold, damp, and generally an unpleasant place to hang about.

And of course, the rest of the school thought it a fitting place for the Slytherins—scum of the school—to be located. Which only showed why _they_ weren't in Slytherin. Because unpleasant though the dungeons were, they had distinct advantages over any other part of the castle. First off, there was the whole privacy factor—no one but a Slytherin would voluntarily go down here. No one. Secondly, there was the fact that if the school was ever attacked, the dungeons were probably the safest place to be. It was protected from spells most truly dangerous spells by thick, stone walls and the Earth around and above them. One could not level the dungeons as the rest of the castle could be so easily levelled. If the rest of the castle collapsed, the stone walls would still stand strong and they could always escape through that passage in the common room that led to lake, from which they could swim to safety. Bare stone would not catch fire easily, especially as none of the walls were adorned with the gaudy tapestries flaunted by the rest of the castle. And that very lack of tapestries also made it that much more difficult for a stranger to find their way around down here. Thirdly, there was the fact that the dungeons were the oldest part of the castle and therefore held the most accumulated magic—for after so many centuries of wizards passing through, the stone itself began to absorb the magic, lending extra strength to those who knew how to tap it. Fourth, it was much easier to hide secret passages and rooms and such in gloomy darkness and thick, rough walls. In the rest of the school, the only place to hide passages where they wouldn't be easily seen was behind statues and such; so you looked behind the wall decorations and you found all the secret passages you could want. And last, but not least, the dungeons were right by the kitchens.

Yes, Salazar Slytherin had chosen the location of the Slytherin common room for a reason, as had been explained to Draco innumerable times by Father, Professor Snape, and the older students. And the other teachers had not objected, never even considering the potential benefits of the dungeons.

No one had ever stopped to consider _why_ the most powerful, most cunning of the Founding Four had chosen the dungeons of all places. No one had ever bothered to wonder why the most powerful, cunning, and wealthy wizarding children would tolerate living in such a horrid place. And none of the Slytherins were all that keen on encouraging them to start thinking.

Ron followed Draco as he led him through the twisting passageways, deliberately taking as indirect a route as possible so Ron wouldn't be able to find his way back on his own. Draco, of course, knew exactly where they were—he'd lived here three seasons out of four for the past six years. He doubted he _could_ get lost in the dungeons.

Finally, they came to a stretch of bare wall, unmarked and indecipherable from any of a hundred similar stretches of bare, stone wall. But Draco recognized it as if he had a sixth sense for finding secret passageways in the dungeons of Hogwarts. He laid his hand against the cold, rough stone, feeling for the slight notch he knew was there. Yes, there it was—large enough to find if you knew to look for it, but small enough that anyone who stumbled onto it by accident wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

"_E__xpositus,_" Draco said softly, and a section of the wall—presumably charmed into silence—slid noiselessly inwards. Draco pushed the wall sideways and it slid just as silently behind the wall, opening into darkness. Stepping aside, Draco gave a slight bow and motioned for Ron to enter.

Ron glared at him. "What—?"

"I don't suppose anyone's ever told you that curiosity killed the cat?"

"Well, I'm not a cat," Ron said, not moving. "And I think that lack of curiosity is likely to kill the Weasley."

"Just _go_," Draco snapped.

"What's in there?"

"Why don't you go find out," Draco suggested.

"How do I know that you won't just shut the door behind me and lock me inside to starve to death?"

Draco gave an overly patient sigh. "Other than the fact that that would be stupid and pointless and would cause me more trouble than it's worth? If I were a Death Eater, why on Earth would I kill _you_? It would just blow my cover and would gain no one anything that couldn't easily be accomplished rather more anonymously."

"But no one else knows we're down here," Ron pointed out.

"The Aurors at the Ministry who would investigate your death would certainly be able to trace it back to me. Of course, there is the fact that this door can only be closed from inside, and there's another door which you leave by."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because I said so."

"And since when have I ever trusted the word of a Slytherin?"

Draco smiled. "There's a first time for everything."

"Will you at least tell me what you're going to do with me?"

"Shag you senseless?"

Ron blanched, taking a step away from him and looking about ready to bolt.

"I was _joking_, Ron. I don't suppose you and your Gryffindor friends have paused in your attempts to Save the World long enough to learn how jokes work?"

Ron flushed, though he didn't relax much. "Just tell me."

"How jokes work? Well let's see—"

"_What do you want from me?_"

"Well, that all depends on what you're willing to give. I don't suppose you'd like to trade anything for a Salazar Slytherin Wizard Card? For some reason, us Slytherins tend to get about ten times as many of him as anyone else, so they're more or less worthless to us. Everyone's already got five or six at least."

Ron stared at him, perhaps shocked by the idea of trading Wizard Cards with _Draco_—or perhaps he was having trouble with the concept of Slytherins collecting Wizard Cards at all … almost like _real human beings_.

"Are you sure the Gryffindor animal isn't really a fish? Because you look an awful lot like a fish right now."

Ron quickly shut his mouth and glared at him.

"You know," Draco said thoughtfully. "I wonder what someone would think, walking along and seeing us standing here."

Ron, to his credit, managed to restrain his impulse to glance around and make sure they really were alone. "Just tell me what's inside there."

"It can't be that dangerous, as it hasn't jumped out and mauled you yet, and you'll find out in due time. Patience is a virtue, you know."

"And what would a Slytherin know about 'virtue'?"

Draco sighed. "You have to the count of ten. Otherwise, I'm parading you around the school on a leash. Ten. Nine. Eight…"

Ron hesitated for another moment, then entered the room. Draco smiled in satisfaction and followed him inside, pulling the door shut behind him and leaving them surrounded darkness.

* * *

A/N: Stars-n-moons: Yeah, I'm struggling with Ron's characterization. It's not that I don't understand what's going on inside his head--it would undoubtedly make perfect sense if I were telling this from his POV, but I don't want to resort to that. Not yet, anyways. I might switch later, but I want to see what I can do without just switching whenever it's convenient. Draco may or may not like Ron at this point--he hasn't really given it much thought yet and will probably have fits when he does. Crabbe and Goyle will feature largely into the rest of the story, especially Crabbe. But I'm rambling, aren't I? Anyways, thanks so much for the feedback. :D Gryffgurl88: Thanks. ;P Amanda-panda161: Thanks. Now I feel all inspired inside. Must go start next chapter of ... something. On-A-Rainy-Day: (ooo, I like rainy days) Yeah, I'd kind of noticed that too. "Sit. Stay. Snog. Good Ron!" Master of the Flames: Probably, but since when do Slytherins follow the rules? See my response to Stars-n-moons for 'Why doesn't Ron make any sense??' Kashiaga and Princess Orli: Thanks Orange: You know I love you.  



	7. Chapter 7

Draco pulled the door shut and the two young wizards were swallowed by darkness.

"Malfoy?" Ron sounded slightly frightened.

Curious, Draco said nothing.

"Malfoy? Where are you?" Draco could hear Ron moving. "_Malfoy?_" And then, muttered as if to himself, "If that bloody bastard locked me in here, I'm going to kill him."

"What, scared of the dark?" Draco asked, and thought he heard Ron jump.

"No," Ron said defensively. "I just don't want to be locked in here."

"Sure," Draco said sarcastically.

Ron ignored that, asking, "So, are you going to turn on the lights or are we just going to stand here in darkness for the next few hours?"

"Actually, I was thinking of standing here in the dark."

"_Malfoy?_" Ron sounded more than a little panicked.

"I thought you weren't afraid of the dark," Draco reminded him, smirking.

"It's not the dark I'm afraid of," Ron muttered.

"You're afraid of me? How touching."

"You know, not everything's about you, Malfoy," Ron snapped.

Draco laughed. "It isn't? I hadn't noticed yet." Draco considered confirming Ron's fears and coming up behind; there were millions of things he could think of doing with Ron in the dark. Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely sure exactly where Ron _was_, and groping around in the dark for him seemed awkward—and Malfoys were _never_ awkward.

"So … are you going to turn on the lights or not?" Ron sounded slightly less panicked and a little more annoyed.

"I thought we had already established that we're going to be standing here in darkness for the next few hours."

"If you aren't going to turn on the lights, I will." Draco could here Ron's robes rustling as he presumably searched for his wand.

Following the sound, Draco reached out and touched—his arm? Ron stilled and Draco moved his fingers up the cloth of his robes, finding his shoulder and sliding back down his back—no, chest. He could feel the edges of his robe and his shirtfront. Ron was facing him? Hmm … that opened up some possibilities.

He moved his fingers to Ron's neck, his second hand joining the first. He cupped Ron's chin, his fingers brushing gently over his lips. Ron jerked his head back and Draco sighed.

He found his wand and muttered, "_Lumos!_"

"Better?" he asked curtly.

Ron didn't respond. He was avoiding looking at Draco, glancing around the room He was avoiding looking at Draco by glancing around the room. It was a pleasant, cozy room—one that the Slytherins had set up quite possibly centuries ago to gather in when their common room wouldn't do. Draco had actually only been here twice before—once to meet Snape for an extra Potions lesson when his grades started slipping during his third year and again at the end of his fourth year to discuss whether or not the Dark Lord had actually returned. He had chosen this room mostly because it was comfortable, was stocked with small amounts of food, and was all but guaranteed to be empty. No one came here unless someone set up a meeting, and Draco doubted that most of the younger Slytherins even _knew_ about it. His father had told him, of course, but most of the other students in his year had been surprised when one of the older students announced the meeting about the Dark Lord. All of the furniture had been stolen from various rooms in Hogwarts over the centuries—mostly the common rooms and faculty room, since it was all far more comfortable than anything in the classrooms. There was a small, low wooden table, an expensive-looking rug that Father claimed he had stolen from the Headmaster's office during his seventh year, a chest containing food, a wide variety of chairs and cushions, and a bed. And it was presumably the bed that had made Ron blanch.

"Malfoy," he asked in a choked voice. "What is a _bed_ doing here?"

Shit. He'd forgotten about the bed. According to Snape, it had been moved here when the Slytherins began meeting here on a regular basis during the Dark Lord's years of power. He had never said if they gathered to discuss supporting or opposing the Dark Lord, but Draco assumed it was to support him. At this point, he hadn't regained enough power for any of the current Slytherins to consider joining him. "Um… Existing, I suppose," Draco answered.

Ron looked at him. "Why is it existing _here_?"

Draco shrugged. "Someone moved it here?"

"You're going to rape me. You're really going to rape me."

"Well, I wasn't planning on it, but now that you mention it… well the bed's right here." Ron paled and Draco laughed. "I was joking. Can't you take a joke? God, you Gryffindors have _no_ sense of humor." Ron gave him a disbelieving look and Draco sighed patiently. "Look, I may be a horny 16-year-old boy and all, but I prefer my prey to be just a little more attractive—not to mention willing."

Now Ron looked offended. "What do you mean, 'more attractive'?"

"Well, Weasel, Granger may think those freckles and red hair are cute, but I can't say as I agree."

Ron's hand moved involuntarily to touch his hair. "What's wrong with my hair and freckles?"

"Well actually, I think your hair looks like someone spilt tomato sauce on it and it never washed out."

"My hair. You're commenting on my hair—and you think _I'm_ gay."

Draco laughed. "I'm image conscious—artistic. That's different."

"I thought artists were supposed to be gay. Or gay people were supposed to be artists, or something."

"You should know by now that Malfoys never do what they're supposed to."

Ron seemed to have relaxed marginally, though he was still watching the bed suspiciously. Draco muttered "_Incendio!_" lighting the candles in their sconces around the room with the familiar spell, and went over to the chest, opening it.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate? You have food down here?"

Draco gave a patient sigh. "What part of '16-year-old boy' escaped you? Of course I have food. So, you want some?"

"Sure. I guess I'm hungry."

"Oh, I think I can give you something to eat," Draco said suggestively.

"_Malfoy!_"

Draco laughed. "This is too easy."

"I hate you."

"Really." Draco found two cups and filled them with water.

"Yes. I do."

Draco snorted, adding the chocolate powder to the mixture. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Huh?" Ron looked confused.

"You mean you haven't read Shakespeare?" Draco asked as though this was a grievous crime worthy of death.

Ron blinked. "Shake what?"

"Shakespeare," Draco repeated.

"Is this Shakespeare as in 'shake spear' or 'shakes pear'? Because I haven't read either spears or pears, and certainly not while shaking. Or are they supposed to be the ones shaking?"

Draco gave him a disgusted look. "_Shakespeare._"

"Um… I don't have one," Ron said. "Either of them."

Draco sighed. "He was a playwright."

"Oh."

"He was also probably very, very gay," Draco continued.

Ron stared at him.

"Yes, he was pretty and witty and gay."

Ron was giving him a very odd look and had begun slowly backing away from him. But seeing as he couldn't actually get out without knowing the password to the second door, Draco ignored it, setting their mugs on the table. "_Hamlet_—the play that's from—was a play by Shakespeare. You should read it."

"I don't read."

Draco glanced up from their cups. "What, your parents couldn't afford to send you to primary school?"

"I _can _read," Ron corrected him. "I just don't. Especially not plays. Ugh."

"_Hamlet's_ good," Draco said, slightly offended. "Shakespeare's a good writer—you should read something of his. I'll lend you my copy of _Hamlet_, but if you hurt it, I _will_ rape you… In front of the whole school."

"Pervert."

Draco just muttered "_Fervens!_" over their cups, heating them.

"So what kind of inbred dipshit names their kid 'Shakespeare'? It sounds kind of _wrong_."

"Shakespeare's his _last_ name," Draco informed him.

"Oh. I knew that."

"His first name was William," Draco added.

"I had an uncle named William."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"He was a fucking wanker."

"Well, from what I've heard, so was Will Shakespeare. But he was an eloquent fucking wanker."

"Right… and how eloquent was he while he was wanking?"

"Umm… I guess you'd have to ask his boyfriend. Or was it his best friend? I can't remember. I think the biography I read of him got it confused."

Ron was looking at him oddly. "Malfoy, are you gay?"

"Well, on the Kinsley scale, I think I'm a 4…."

"What?"

"Well, maybe more of a 3.5, but who knows."

"What's the Kinsley scale?"

"It's a scale of 0-6 where 0 is straight as a ruler and 6 is gay as the rainbow and 3 is bi."

"Oh."

"So according to the scale, I'm 'predominantly gay, but more than incidentally straight'."

"And where exactly would you put me?"

Draco paused to consider. Honestly—honestly he wasn't sure. Ron _seemed_ straight, but to the best of Draco's knowledge he had yet to express much of any interest in girls—and, well, he was _16_ for God's sake. But he'd never expressed any interest in boys either, nor responded in the slightest to Draco, so who knew? "Oh, 7 or 8."

"…there _is_ no 7 or 8 on a scale of 1-6…"

"Maybe even a 9…"

"Malfoy!"

"God, learn to take a joke, will you?"

Ron was flushing hotly now, so red his freckles weren't even visible anymore.

"You look like your face is about to explode or something," Draco commented.

"I'm not gay."

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Not spears again," Ron groaned.

"No, no, it's _pears, _not spears."

"I'm not gay."

"You said that already."

"Well, I'm not. I'm not gay."

"Yes you are."

Draco shook his head and handed him his mug of hot chocolate. "You are."

Ron accepted the mug. "I'm not."

"Just read _Hamlet_, poof."

"You have to give it to me, first," Ron pointed out.

"Meet me here tomorrow and I will."

"Er… where's here?"

"Oh, right," Draco said. "Okay, I'll give you something so you can find this room tomorrow. You heard the password?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah." He glanced down at his hot chocolate.

"Are you planning on drinking that before it gets cold?"

Ron looked back up at him. "How do I know you didn't poison it? Or drug it? How do I know you didn't put a love potion in it?"

"Love potions are illegal," Draco pointed out, taking a sip of his own drink.

"So? You're a Malfoy. What do you care?"

Draco shrugged. "You want me to take a sip and prove it to you?"

"Ugh, no. Then I'd be drinking your spit." Ron made a disgusted face. "I'd rather take my chances."

"So… are you going to sit?"

Ron glanced around the room. "Well, there are certainly enough chairs, aren't there?"

Draco nodded, leaning back in his own seat. Ron sat down on the other side of the table from him.

"So Draco. Do you know how to play chess?"

"No," Draco admitted.

"What?"

Draco shrugged. "I never learned, therefore I don't know." Actually, his father had tried to teach him when he was little, but it had always bored and frustrated him because he never won. But he wasn't going to admit that to Ron.

"Want me to teach you?"

Draco shrugged. If it had been anyone else, he would have told them to go screw off. But he wanted to get on Ron's good side, so he nodded.

"You have a chess set anywhere down here?"

"Probably somewhere. Look under the bed—I think I remember some things getting stuffed under there last time we were down here to make room for us to sleep."

"Under the bed?" Ron looked horrified. "Have you no respect?"

Draco shrugged. "Guess not."

Ron looked at him with a mixture of horror, revulsion, and suspicion. Draco watched in amusement as he warily got up and made his way over to the bed, keeping as far away from Draco as he could. After a few minutes of fishing around underneath the bed, he got up, chess set in hand. His face and robes were smudges with dust and he was looking at the chess set with a horror.

"I swear, if there are any pieces missing I am going to kill someone." He glanced up at Draco with a reproachful expression. "Don't you ever _clean_ under there? It's filthy."

"Well, no," Draco admitted. "Do you clean under your bed on a regular basis?"

Ron just stalked back over to his chair, placed the chess set gently on the table, and began explaining the rules.

* * *

A/N: Stars-n-moons91: Nope, nothing to maul Ron. Well, except Draco, but I don't think anyone'd mind that. :P Kashiaga: Actually, I think Draco poses a bigger threat to Ron than anything in the room. Princess Orli: Thanks ;D Orange: Without you, I don't think I'd even have this scene (or the next one). Thank you, thank you, thank you.  



	8. Chapter 8

Several hours later, Draco had decided that chess really wasn't such a horrid game after all. Admittedly, Ron seemed to be taking an obscene amount pleasure creaming him, but he had seemed to have forgotten about Draco raping him and was actually relaxing a little. And Draco _was_ getting better.

"What time is it?" Ron asked, suddenly looking up.

"Um ... about that time."

Ron rolled his eyes. "And what time would that be?"

"Do I look like I have a watch implanted in my wrist?"

"Well..."

Draco sighed. "I don't."

"Isn't there a clock in here?"

"Of course there is, but you can look at it as well as I can," Draco pointed out.

"Not if I can't find it."

"Tried the wall?" Draco suggested. "That is where people usually hang their clocks, is it not?"

Ron blushed and looked around the room. "It's almost time for dinner," he said when he found it, hanging on the wall behind him.

Draco glanced up at it, startled. He had thought they had more time than that, but apparently not. "Then I guess you'd better be getting back to your little Gryffindor friends."

"Um... how do I get out of here?"

"I'll only show you if you kiss me," Draco told him.

Ron stared at him. "You're joking."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You're not joking."

"Nope. So, are you going to snog me or stay here?"

Ron had gone slightly pale. "I think I'll take my chances on my own."

"What, you aren't worried about running into Snape or something?"

"You bastard," Ron muttered.

"Come on, it's just a kiss."

"Do you always force your friends to snog you?" Ron asked him sharply.

"Well no. Usually they're pretty eager about it. Except Vincent and Gregory, but…."

"Ugh … I really didn't need that image."

Draco laughed. "So, are you going to kiss me? Just a little kiss—a peck, really. Not even any tongue. I promise."

"Fine," Ron whispered, standing up.

Draco walked around the table, standing in front of Ron, who was staring firmly at the floor. Draco reached down, tilting Ron's head up so he was looking into the boy's eyes. Ron looked past him, refusing to meet his eyes. After a moment's hesitation, Draco leaned down, lightly touching his lips to Ron's. Ron tensed, his hand moving almost involuntarily to Draco's neck. Draco froze, terrified of ruining … whatever that gesture meant.

But Ron just twisted his face away from Draco's, shoving him away. Draco stumbled backwards, crashing into the table and only just managing to keep his balance.

"What—?"

"We kissed," Ron snapped, his voice hoarse and strained. "Now show me how to get out of here."

Draco nodded. "Come on," he said, more curtly then he'd intended. He led Ron out through the second door and to the Entrance Hall, taking a more direct route than he had coming here. He couldn't do this anymore; there was no way he could actually get Ron to fall in love with him. And if Pansy gave him any trouble for backing out of the dare, well, she'd already cheated by interfering and talking to Ron. At the bottom of the stairs to dungeons, he stopped and turned to Ron. "You don't have to meet me tomorrow."

He turned to leave, resolving never to speak to the boy again, but Ron stopped him, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "Why not?"

Draco twisted out of his grasp. "Why not? Because you don't want to."

"But—"

"Merlin, what kind of monster do you think I _am_?"

Ron was staring at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions that Draco really didn't feel like analyzing, or even facing. It didn't matter, anyways; he was done analyzing Ron's emotions 24/7. It was over. He looked away from Ron's eyes and stormed off down the hallway, forcing himself not to break into a run—either away from Ron or back towards him, leaving a stunned and confused Ron behind him.

=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=  
  
Vincent was sitting in the Slytherin common room, ripping the heads off some spiders he and Greg had found that morning. They were large, black spiders, almost as big as Vincent's palm, with short, fuzzy legs. You had to be careful when you were holding one, because not only were its fangs filled with venom that made you pass out within seconds of being bitten, but they also had flames erupting periodically from a gland just below the spinneret.

There was a pile of decapitated, de-legged, crushed spider bodies sitting on the table next to the cage holding the remaining spiders. Vincent held a new spider in his hand, watching as it clicked its pincers, its legs moving wildly and flames spouting out from its back with increasing frequency as it became more and more agitated. After a moment, he grabbed its head with his other hand and, in a quick jerking motion, ripped it off. Its legs continued to move for another moment before it fell still. With one hand, he crushed the head and set it down in the pile of spider bodies. Next he set about pulling off the legs, adding each to the pile. When the last leg had been wrenched from its socket, he crushed the body and added it to the pile, then moved on to the next spider, killing them with a dispassionate fascination that would have pleased his parents very much, had they been alive to see it.

But they weren't alive. When they had heard of the Dark Lord's return to power, they had attempted to flee him, knowing he would show them no mercy for their betrayal after his defeat. But the Dark Lord had found and killed them earlier that year, and the only reason Vincent was still alive was because he hadn't left Hogwarts since their deaths. He didn't know what he was going to do at the end of the year—probably join the Dark Lord, if he was allowed. Otherwise he would undoubtedly be killed, just like his parents. But he didn't like thinking about that. He'd learned long ago that thinking about the future accomplished nothing.

There was a loud bang as the stone door leading to the common room slammed shut and Vincent looked up to see Draco storm across the common room and vanish up the stairs to their dormitory. Everyone in the common room stared after him for a moment before returning to what they had been doing; Draco was usually more self-controlled than that. Pansy immediately got up and went after him. Vincent would have, but he knew better. He had long since learned that it was best to leave Draco alone when he got upset and then pretend it had never happened once he calmed down.

So he simply glanced over at Greg to find him staring after Pansy, who he had only just managed to persuade to help him with his homework, and turned back to the spiders he was killing.

* * *

A/N: Princess Orli: All your questions about Ron will be answered in the next chapter--well, most anyway. And you'll have to wait, cause I think they're going to take their time about getting together.  
Kashiage: lol, yeah.Thanks. :P  
Orange and Outlaw of the West: Thanks  



	9. Chapter 9

Ron made his way back to Gryffindor common room, wondering what on Earth had just happened. Draco's words echoed inside his head: _"Because you don't want me to."_

You don't want me to. Well, he didn't, did he? He didn't want to see Malfoy ever again. He'd been praying for Malfoy to leave him alone ever since their first kiss in the Potions classroom. And now he had said he would. It was exactly what Ron wanted, right? But then why had he had to reach out and grab Malfoy's arm and ask him "why"? If this was what he wanted, why had his first impulse been to pull Malfoy back to him? And why did he feel so hollow now?

When Malfoy had first approached him in Potions, giving him the choice between snogging him or facing Snape's wrath, he had assumed that Malfoy knew, somehow, and was taunting him. He had stayed up for hours that night, and for many nights after, wondering where he had slipped up, what clue had he given to his true feelings—wondering how many other people suspected it, and how he could convince Malfoy it wasn't true.

And trying not to think about how much he wanted Malfoy to kiss him again.

Before that kiss, it had just been a minor, passing attraction—not even a crush. Malfoy was attractive—no one could deny that. An annoying, pathetic, stuck-up, bigoted git, but good-looking one nonetheless. But there were plenty of other, equally attractive and _nicer_ people in the school. Lavender, for instance, or Parvati or Hannah or… Heck, even Dean, though Ron would sooner face a room filled with Death Eaters than admit that he found Dean even remotely attractive.

But at least Dean wasn't _Malfoy_. Of course, he also had to _live_ with Dean, since they were in the same dorm, and he usually spent most of his time around Dean focusing on not looking at the other boy. Malfoy, at least, he could stare at under the guise of glaring, but that was just _looking_, and there wasn't anything wrong with looking. It wasn't like he'd actually had any real _feelings _for Malfoy before.

Until Malfoy had kissed him, and now he couldn't get the boy off his mind. Okay, he'd never been able to get the boy off his mind, but before it had always been 'that stuck-up, evil, slimy git, I wish he'd just _die_,' not 'that stuck-up, sexy, evil, wonderful boy, I wonder if he's part veela—not that it matters, because I hate him….'

Now he went to bed thinking about Malfoy and wondering what that kiss had meant, slept dreaming of how wonderful it would be to kiss him again and … other things he'd rather not think about, woke longing to see him again, ate meals facing away from him so he wouldn't accidentally glance up at him and end up staring, only to catch himself turning around to look anyways, sitting through the classes he had with Malfoy and trying desperately to focus in the teacher, not the blond boy across the room, and daydreaming about the boy throughout all the classes they didn't share.

Of course, Ron had also been doing his best to avoid Malfoy, mostly because he really wasn't sure he trusted himself in a confrontation. He had a rather horrid image of attacking Malfoy only to find himself snogging the bastard, and it wasn't like he could trust the boy to stop him anymore. But then he'd screwed up and let Malfoy catch him—in the _changing room_, of all places. After that, Ron had begun to wonder if there was more to Malfoy's motives than merely taunting him. It had even occurred to him that perhaps Malfoy was genuinely attracted to him, and he had been more relieved than alarmed when Pansy Parkinson had approached him and warned him that Malfoy intended to rape him.

If Malfoy wasn't actually attracted to him, that made things a lot easier. He might not be sure how he felt about Malfoy, but he knew he didn't want to be raped. He had figured that Malfoy had intended to rape him that time in the changing room and had simply chickened out or something. The question was whether the kiss in Potions had also been part of Malfoy's plan to rape him—and if that meant that Malfoy didn't know Ron's secret after all. Not that it made it any easier to control his feelings, but at least there was a chance they weren't reciprocated, which meant he didn't have to worry about what he'd do if Malfoy genuinely liked him. It was one thing to know his feelings were wrong and he didn't have a chance anyways; if he was faced with the opportunity to make everything he wanted so badly a reality … he wasn't sure he could turn away, even if it was Malfoy.

The incident in the library only been more confusing, since Malfoy couldn't possibly intend to actually rape him _there_, but he had assumed that the boy was playing with him or something.

And then Draco had approached him after Defence Against the Dark Arts, offering friendship and that lame excuse for his action—did he honestly expect Ron to believe that he'd been dared to 'molest a Gryffindor three times'?—and Ron now didn't know what to make of Malfoy's actions.

When Malfoy had told him to meet him by the lake, he'd agreed mostly because if he didn't, someone might have come along and found them talking, which he really didn't want to have to explain—especially since Malfoy would probably have taken the liberty to 'explain' by snogging him again. He had then had to wait for almost ten minutes for the Fat Lady return from wherever she'd gone off to and had spent that time debating whether or not to actually meet Malfoy. Logic and common sense told him he shouldn't, but the rest of his senses had told him he should. And it had been the rest of his senses that had ultimately won.

But they'd gone to that room and had almost been having fun while he taught Malfoy to play chess, and then they'd kissed and… What? He wasn't entirely sure what had really happened. Just that Malfoy had suddenly gone cold and had told him to get lost.

Looking up, Ron realized that he'd come to the entrance to Gryffindor common room. "Loin's breath," he muttered, and the portrait swung open. Inside, all his Housemates were working on homework or sitting around and talking. Harry and Hermione were sitting in their usual spot by the fire, doing homework. Harry looked up as he sat down next to him.

"So, how is it outside?"

"What—oh, yeah. Um…" Right, he'd told them he'd gone outside to get some fresh air. "Outside. Yeah, it was … nice."

"Must have been," Hermione commented without looking up from her schoolwork. "You were only gone for three hours."

"Er…"

"You missed the entire meeting," she informed him.

Ron swallowed guiltily, scrambling for an explanation. It wasn't like he could tell her he'd blown off a meeting of Dumbledore Army—which they had reformed this year at Dumbledore's suggestion—so he could play chess with Malfoy. "I—"

"Hermione," Harry cut in. "He's been under a lot of stress lately—we all have. Cut him some slack."

"Just make sure you're at the next one," she snapped.

"Promise," Ron said. _After all, why wouldn't I be? It's not like Malfoy'll be bothering me anymore._ "So, what happened?"

"Nothing important enough to bother you," Hermoine snapped curtly, but Harry was smiling.

"Well, first Neville almost blew up Hermione when he finally managed that reflecting shield spell I showed you last night…"

"You should have been there," Seamus said, grinning broadly.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "It was pretty spectacular."

Neville was blushing. "I—I didn't _mean _to…"

"Oh shut up," Hermoine snapped. "I just got a little distracted, that's all."

"And _then_, Professor Dumbledore showed up to see how we were doing and…."

Ron relaxed, listening as his friends told him all about everything he'd missed, and forgetting all about Malfoy, at least for the time being.

* * *

A/N: Princess Orli: I think this gives a little insight into Ron's POV. Kashiaga: Well, I hope you keep reading anyway... :P Amanda-panda161: Yeah, how will I get them together? Luckily, I have a wonderful beta who's helped me figure that out--unless things spin wildly out of my control, which is always a possible. As to the rating, I've been meaning that... thanks for reminding me. :D And to Orange: Thanks for helping me figure out Ron's PoV and the plot (sort of).  
  
I'm really unsure of this chapter. I'm not sure whether I spent too much or too little time going over Ron's PoV. I'm not really sure if I explained everything clearly enough. So please, please, please tell me what you think.  



	10. Chapter 10

Draco flung himself down on his bed, hearing the door to his dormitory slam shut a second later. This was it—he wasn't going to mess around with Ron or with Pansy's demented dare anymore. It was hopeless anyway; Ron wasn't even remotely attracted to him—he'd made that abundantly clear.

Yes, he'd been insisting that he hated Draco every time they met. But this was the first time he'd actually pushed Draco away from him—the first time he'd done anything other than just stand there like a statue. The times he'd stomped on Draco's foot didn't really count; then he had just been worried about someone catching them, not attacking Draco because he genuinely wanted Draco to stop.

But today… today had been different. And the worst part was that they'd actually been having fun, until … until he'd ruined it.

Draco heard the door open again and wondered irritably who was stupid enough to have followed him. It wasn't any of his dorm mates—he knew their footsteps by heart.

"Draco?"

Oh. Of course, he should have known. It was Pansy. The only person clueless enough to come after him, and the last person he wanted to see right now. This was all her fault, after all. If it weren't for her stupid dare, he wouldn't have even thought about approaching Ron. He wondered for a moment if she might go away if he didn't respond, but he knew her better than that. She wouldn't leave until she was satisfied.

He felt the mattress shift as she sat down next to him. "Draco?" she asked again, her voice annoyingly gentle and soft.

"Go away," he muttered into his pillow.

Of course, she didn't cooperate, but it had been worth a try. Instead he felt her hand tentatively touch his shoulder with an irritating, too-light pressure that made him want to squirm away. He rolled over, mostly to get away from that feather light touch, and glared up into Pansy's concerned face.

"What do _want_, Pansy?"

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"I'm not screwing around with Weasley anymore," he informed her. She blinked, opening her mouth to protest, but Draco cut her off. "You talked to him and told him I was going to rape him. That's cheating. Therefore, I don't have to do this anymore. Now leave me alone."

Pansy just continued to stare into his eyes. "Why are you so upset?"

"_Leave me alone._"

"Just tell me what's wrong—"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong, everything's wonderful, now _go away_."

"If nothing's wrong, why do you want to be alone? You only hide in your room when you're upset."

"I'm not hiding," Draco snapped.

"You know, you can still pursue things with Ron, even without the dare," Pansy said, looking just a little too eager. "If you want to, of course."

"I _don't_ want to. I never want to see that inbred, pig-faced, Muggle-loving arsehole _ever again_, okay?"

"You know, you two would look really cute together—"__

"Oh god—look Pansy, you had your chance to set us up, you blew it, that's _it_. It's not even any of your business, anyways."

"But—"

"Out!" Draco snapped, sitting up abruptly and pointing firmly to the door. "This is _my_ room, now get _out_."

"Actually, it's—"

"It's the boys' dormitory. You're a girl. Get out."

Pansy reluctantly stood and left. For a moment, Draco just glared at the open door. Then he grabbed his wand, and before he could even say the spell, the door slammed shut hard enough to warp the wood.

Down in the common room, several heads turned at the sound of a bang from the direction of the boy's dormitories. Vincent looked up in time to see Pansy vanishing up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. He shrugged and turned back to his spiders, deciding to think about sleeping in the common room tonight. 

------------------------------

Malfoy wasn't at dinner that evening, though ironically enough, almost everyone else was. Professor Stanwood, who had already made it clear that he stood with the Ministry's belief that school children should not be involved in fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in any way shape or form, had been asking questions about where everyone was during meals and Professor McGonagall had suggested that they skip tonight's DA meeting. Hermione was in the common room, working on making more fake Galleons—which they were using since posting notices in the common room would alert Professor Stanwood and anyone who had opted not to join. But they took time and resources to make, and right now there was only enough for the original members, the some of the teachers, and a few of the students; everyone else had to check with their designated 'Galleon holder'. Actually, Ron suspected Hermione was really just still embarrassed about Neville catching her off guard during today's DA meeting.

Though he was facing away from the Slytherin table out of habit, Ron was still painfully aware of Malfoy's absence. He longed to turn around and look, to see if maybe the boy had arrived yet, but he didn't dare. Harry would surely notice if he did, and Ron wasn't sure what he'd do if Malfoy _was _there.

Suddenly, he became realized that Harry was looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for an answer to a question.

"Er… what was that?"

Harry sighed. "I asked if you were even listening to me. I'll take that as a no."

Ron flushed slightly. "Sorry… I'm feeling a bit … off today."

"So I'd noticed."

"Yeah, I think I'm going to go to bed early tonight," Ron said getting up.

"Then can I finish your potatoes?" Dean asked.

Ron's heartbeat quickened at the thought that Dean was talking to him, asking for his food. He glanced down at his virtually untouched plate and nodded. "Of course."

"Thanks."

Ron just shrugged and left, trying hard not to think about the fact that Dean was eating _his_ food—food that had been on _his_ plate, originally intended for _his_ mouth, but was now going into Dean's mouth and he really, _really_ shouldn't think about Dean's mouth, although it was sort of relieving to be thinking about someone other than Malfoy for a change. Until he remembered that he'd be sleeping in the bed next to Dean that night, and quite probably be in the room while Dean got into his pyjamas; then he began to wish he could go back to obsessing exclusively over Malfoy. Of course, obsessing over Lavender would have been better. Unfortunately, he had long since discovered that obsessing over something that didn't even remotely interest you didn't work very well, no matter how hard you tried. And he found Lavender was about interesting as one of Professor Binns' lectures. But if Lavender was History of Magic, then Malfoy was the Quidditch World Cup.

Except that everyone knew he loved Quidditch and no one expected him to enjoy History of Magic.

When he arrived at the common room, he found Hermione sitting in front of the fire, frowning over a disk of bright gold metal. She looked up at the sound of the Fat Lady's portrait swinging shut and frowned at him.

"I wasn't hungry," he explained.

Hermione gave him an odd look, but just said, "Well, since you weren't at the DA meeting, you can help me with this."

Ron, not in a mood to argue, just nodded and sat down next to her. He lifted one of the thin, wooden disks from the pile on the table set to work casting the glamour to make it look and feel like a Galleon. They wouldn't stand up to the anti-forgery wards on any cash register, but they didn't have to. They just had to be convincing enough that if Professor Stanwood or a Slytherin saw one, they wouldn't get suspicious.

"How many of these do we have to make?" Ron asked as he worked.

"There are 209 students in Dumbledore's Army right now, plus 17 teachers—not counting Professor Stanwood, of course—is 226. So far, we've got about 71 made—including the nine I've made so far—which leaves 155."

"And it took us how long to make the 71 we've got so far?" Ron asked, feeling slightly daunted.

"Not counting the ones left over from last year, we've made 48 in the past two weeks."

"It'll be _summer_ by the time we finish all of these," Ron complained.

Hermione just shrugged.

* * *

A/N: Stars-n-moons91: Action will come later... quite possibly much later, depending on how things go. Sorry... I'll try not to make it take too long. The spiders will be explained eventually (or not...). No promises (cause I'll prolly break them). Kashiaga: Thanks :P Princess Orli: Thanks And Orange: Has abandoned me for the next few week, leaving me only with the scraps of characterization and plot we've already worked out. So things might be taking longer now, since I've got to brainstorm and edit all on my own. : ( 


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione watched Ron out of the corner of her eye as she worked on the fake Galleon she was making. She was worried about him; he'd been acting strangely lately, and she wasn't sure why. Harry seemed to think it was just stress, but Hermione wasn't so sure. He'd been oddly jumpy for the past few weeks—well before Dumbledore's suggestion that they re-form Dumbledore's army, only now with the knowledge and help of the Hogwarts faculty. And the fact that he hadn't finished dinner—Ron usually became _more_ hungry with stress, not less. The last (and only) time she could remember him saying he wasn't hungry was when he'd been fighting with Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. If he wasn't eating, he must be more upset than she'd ever seen him. The fact that he'd also missed the DA meeting only confirmed it.  
=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=.=

But she had no idea why. What had happened upset him so much? Nothing had really happened over the past few days to explain his odd behavior.

She watched the firelight playing over his face, illuminating him with its soft, warm light. His eyes were hidden, cast in shadow beneath gleaming, copper hair, and the firm set of his mouth, lips pursed with concentration, was sharpened by the shadows. For a moment, she longed to reach out and brush his hair back from his forehead, revealing his furrowed brow and bright hazel eyes.

But then he looked up at her and moment was broken. "How's this?" he asked, handing her the Galleon he had just finished.

Hermione took it, trying not to flush when his fingers brushed hers. She weighed it in her hand, running her fingers over the smooth surface and feeling warm metal in place of the wood that was actually there. The right weight, the right feel.... Now to see if it actually worked.

She picked up the Master Galleon—which Harry had let her borrow to test the new ones—and changed the serial number to a string of zeros. Sure enough, the serial number of the new Galleon—along with every other fake Galleon they'd made—changed to a string of zeros. She set the Master Galleon back to the correct date—tomorrow evening, after dinner—and added the newest Galleon to the pile before going back to her own.

Ron yawned, glancing over at the clock. "I'm ... er ... kind of tired. I'm going to go to bed. I'll ... help you tomorrow. Good-night."

Hermione nodded and he hurried upstairs, leaving her alone again. She glanced up at the clock and saw that dinner was nearly over. With luck, she'd be able to convince Harry to help her once he came back.

Malfoy wasn't in any of Ron's classes until Care of Magical Creatures after lunch the following day. Ron wasn't sure if he was pleased or annoyed by this—his brain told him that Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see, but then he found himself searching for that sharp, pale face and silver-blonde hair as he walked through the halls to his classes. He told himself he was just looking out so he could avoid the boy, but that didn't explain the unpleasant heat that spread through him whenever he thought he saw Malfoy out of the corner of his eye, before he turned and saw it was actually someone else.

Ron had managed to avoid Malfoy at breakfast by arriving early that morning—which might have been the result of staying up all night, trying not to think about Draco or Dean or boys in general and failing miserably—and he had then missed lunch to teach the Patronus Charm to a group of Hufflepuff first years. To his surprise, neither Harry nor Hermione had commented on this, despite the fact teaching first years was a task he had previously avoided like the plague. But Harry had looked more relieved than suspicious when Ron volunteered, and Hermione seemed to think he was making up for missing yesterday's DA meeting.

Now, as he walked down the hill to Hagrid's hut, a relentless wind whipping at his robes and hair, he was dreading seeing Malfoy again. What would Malfoy do? Ignore him? If only. More likely, he'd be even more of an annoying bastard than he had before. And Ron really didn't want to think about how he'd react to seeing Malfoy; he'd undoubtedly give himself away to Harry and Hermione at the very least, assuming he hadn't already. But much though he wished he could turn around and race back up to the castle and as far away from Malfoy as possible, he didn't think that would help much. He'd have to face Malfoy sooner or later; might as well get it over with now. Unless, of course, Malfoy was sick today, but that was undoubtedly too much to hope for.

He was vaguely aware of Harry talking to him—something about Quidditch, unless he'd moved on to something else already. Ron had long since given up trying to pay attention, beyond the occasional nod or grunt to reassure Harry that he was still listening. Ever since he'd realized that this was his next class with Malfoy, he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything else. But at least it was Care of Magical Creatures instead of Potions, so he didn't have to deal with Snape as well as Malfoy.

And then they came into sight of the Hagrid's hut, and with it the gathering Slytherin and Gryffindor students. Nearly all twenty students were already there, but only one captured Ron's attention, and it was all he could do not to stop dead in his tracks.

Malfoy was ... stunning. There was simply no other word for it. He stood, tall and slim, with his robes billowing about him in the wind and his silvery hair flying wildly about his face. Crabbe and Goyle, looming to either side of him, could not have been better placed to accent his sinister beauty. Power, confidence and pride seemed to surround him in an almost tangible aura.

Ron felt his breath catch and wondered, in the small corner of his mind that wasn't staring in awe at Malfoy, why he couldn't be obsessing over someone like Lavender or Cho. Why, of all the people at Hogwarts, did it have to be _Malfoy_?

Who was, Ron reminded himself firmly, a stuck-up, bigoted prat.

Harry and Hermione took no notice of Malfoy beyond a brief glare in his general direction, and Malfoy didn't even look up from his conversation with Pansy, Zabini and Nott. Pansy, however, did look up, and gave Ron a smile that sent chills running down his spine. Then she turned to Malfoy, slipping her arm around his waist and whispering something to him, her lips almost touching his neck. Malfoy glanced up and saw Ron. For a moment, their eyes met, and Ron felt his stomach clench. A slow smirk spread across Malfoy's face, and he turned to Pansy, catching her lips in a passionate kiss.

Ron stared, appalled and revolted, as they continued to snog—right in front of the entire class, no less! "Oh god," he muttered in disgust.

Harry followed his gaze and made a face. "That's just ... gross."

Hermione sighed. "They're just doing it to get attention."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Because Malfoy can't stand not being the center of attention for more than about six seconds."

"Stuck-up prat," Harry muttered.

"Just ignore them," Hermione said.

Harry nodded, not looking away from Pansy and Malfoy. "I _hate_ Malfoy."

"Bloody whore," Ron muttered, glaring at the two of them. "God, get a _room_, will you?"

"Why?" Malfoy called back. "So you can watch us without your boyfriend, Potter, finding out?"

"So I don't _have _to watch you, you twisted, slimy git," Ron snapped. "And Harry is _not my boyfriend_!"

"Sure he isn't," Malfoy said sarcastically. He pause then, "A room with a bed perhaps?"

"No. He isn't," Ron said firmly. "And I don't fucking care, as long as I don't have to be there.

"Maybe we can find you another," Draco suggested. "To share with your beloved Potter—"

"_Harry is not my boyfriend!_"

"What, so even he thinks you're too pathetic to bother with? Bravo, Potter. There's hope for you yet.

Harry clenched his fists, glaring angrily at Malfoy. "You bloody bastard."

"Oh, so you _are_ dating the Weasel," Malfoy said.

"What part of 'We are just friends' escapes you?"

Draco paused to consider. "The part where anyone would want to be friends—or anything else, for that matter—with either of you. Or are you to busy screwing around with the Mudblood to bother screwing the Weasel? That really _is_ sad.

"Don't call her that!" Ron snapped.

"Sticking up for your sweetheart, Weasel?" Malfoy sneered. "How sweet. But I'll call her whatever I damn well please, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Ron!" Hermione said. "Let it go."

"That's right, Weasel. Better listen to your girlfriend."

"Malfoy—" Harry began.

"Yes Potter? Jealous that your pets are dating?"

"They're not pets, Malfoy, they're my friends. But perhaps you can't understand that, seeing as _you don't have any_."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the Slytherins surrounding him. "And what exactly do these look like?"

"Semi-loyal minions and cheap sex," Hermione muttered.

"Well at least they don't go around screwing each other behind my back, now do they?"

"How would I know?" Hermione replied.

"Well, seeing as you can't even tell that your two 'best friends' are screwing each other, I suppose you wouldn't."

"Harry. Is. Not. My. Boyfriend." Ron said firmly.

"So you're the one fooling around with Granger. Really, I'd have thought you'd have better taste than that. Are you really so pathetic that you couldn't find yourself a nice boyfriend and had to go with the Mudblood instead? I'd have though that surely at least Longbottom might be desperate enough, but apparently I underestimated him."

"_I'm not dating Hermione_," Ron snapped.

"So even she turned you down? Poor baby," Malfoy said with mock sympathy. "Or are you all just too busy saving the world every other day to bother with mundane things like dating."

"We don't save the world every other day," Harry protested.

"You're right," Draco conceded. "You just try to, and end up accidentally killing your friends. Forgive me.

"_You bloody bastard!_" Harry screamed, looking about ready to throttle the boy.

Malfoy smirked. "Well, it's only true," he pointed out. "Unlike your uncalled for allegations about my parents—who are, in fact, married."

"_No it's not!_"

"What, you were trying to kill that Hufflepuff boy? I suppose that makes sense, considering your crush on his girlfriend...."

"How _dare_ you?" Hermione demanded. "You don't even know what the hell you're talking about."

"And you couldn't even kill You-Know-Who," Malfoy continued, ignoring Hermione. "But I suppose you did manage to kill the escaped convict, so that's _something_."

"_**You bloody bastard!**"_ Harry screamed, lunging at Malfoy and locking his hands around his throat.

"Harry—" Hermione said, reaching out to stop him. Harry ignored her, continuing to choke Malfoy.

"He's trying to kill me!" Malfoy screamed. "Somebody get him off!"

Hermione looked at Ron.

"What? He deserves it."

"Ron!"

Ron sighed. "Of fine." He resignedly walked over to attempt to detach Harry's hands from Malfoy's throat.

"That's right," Malfoy gasped. "Control your boyfriend, Weasel."

"_**Harry is not my boyfriend!**"_ Ron shouted, shoving Harry away from Malfoy and socking him in the stomach.

"They're both trying to kill me," Malfoy gasped, doubled over and clutching at his stomach. "My father will—"

"I don't bloody well care what your father does," Ron growled, punching Malfoy in the face.

Malfoy staggered backwards, a trickle of blood rolling down his lip. A second later, his fist connected with Ron's jaw and Ron hit the ground, stars exploding behind his eyes. When he opened them, Malfoy was standing over him, sneering. Ron scrambled to his feet. He was vaguely aware of the other students chanting,"Fight! Fight!" and of Hermione begging him to stop before he got into trouble, but his world had narrowed to Malfoy and his desire to pound that arrogant face into the ground. Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise as Ron lunged towards him, knocking him to the ground and leaping on top of him, trying to choke him.

"Potter, _get your pet off of me!_" Malfoy screamed, struggling under Ron's tightening grip.

Ron had no idea what Harry was doing—the only thing he could see or think about was Malfoy. All he knew or cared about was that no one was trying to stop him. Malfoy's face was beginning to turn an interesting shade of purple, and he'd stopped screaming, though he was still struggling like mad. And then suddenly Ron was lying on his back, with Malfoy on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

The world seemed to have gone oddly silent. All he could hear was the constant, deafening beat of his own heart and all he could see was Malfoy's face, staring down into his, and a glimpse of clear blue sky. Intense, stormy, dark gray eyes—he had never really noticed the color of Malfoy's eyes before. And they were framed by long, golden eyelashes, several shades darker than his hair.... And his lips ... red and soft and warm and...

"What d' yeh two think yer doing?" Hagrid cried.

Malfoy sat up, and Ron saw that the class had formed a half-circle around them, with Pansy, Hermione, and Harry standing at the front. Now everyone was looking at Hagrid.

"Fifty points from both o' yer Houses. Honestly, ye'd think I could leave yeh on yer own fer a few minutes withou' yeh tryin' ter kill each other." He shook his head in disgust. "Ron, are yeh' alrigh'? Why don' yeh both go up ter the Hospi'al Wing an' see wha' Madam Pomfrey can do fer yeh."

"But I'm fine," Ron protested.

"Are yeh sure?"

Ron nodded. "Well, I'd be better if Malfoy'd get off of me, but other than that."

Malfoy made a face and moved to get up. "My leg!" he cried, clutching at his ankle. "I think you broke it, you inbred wanker!"

"I did not. You probably just sprained it or something."

"I can't walk!" Malfoy screamed. "You've killed me! My father's going to be hearing about this! You'll be expelled, Weasel! My leg!"

"Oh get off it," Harry muttered in annoyance.

"Ron, why don' yeh help Mr. Malfoy here up ter the Hospi'al Wing," Hagrid said, looking nervous. "And yeh can get yerself looked at while yer at it."

"You going to have him take me?" Malfoy asked in horror. "He tried to kill me!"

"Oh please," Hermione said.

"He's probably just going to try to finish the job! My _life_ is in _danger_ here!"

"No one bloody well cares," Ron spat.

"Now, fer the rest o' yeh, we'll be thawin' and refreezin' the Ashwinder eggs today...." Hagrid continued to detail the day's lesson, leaving Ron and Malfoy on their own.

* * *

A/N: My computer conveniently died on me, in case you were wondering why this chapter took so long. I'm sharing my sister's computer until mine is fixed (which will take a few weeks), so I can't use it as much.  
Thankfully, Orange had the lastest versions of both Just a Dare and Paper Birds saved on her computer and e-mailed them to me (but not Over the Raindow, so I can't update that). I'm also going back to school, so updates will be slowing down a bit anyways.  
  
Stars-n-moons91: I'll see what I can do twist-wise. As for Ron/Hermione, we'll just have to see. :P  
LightElf 99: Well, I could do it without Orange, until my computer died. But by that point, she was back and I'd just sent her Just a Dare and Paper Birds. Thanks :-)  
Amanda-panda161: I'm doing my best. :D  
Kashiaga: Thanks.  
Orange: Thank you soooo much!!! ::coddles newly retrieved stories::  



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